The guards had either been withdrawn, or Goring had arranged matters
with them. We passed unchallenged through the town and across the sandy
plain. Once more I heard the roar of the sea, and saw the long white
line of the surge. Two figures were standing upon the shore arranging
the gear of a small boat. They were the two sailors who had been with us
on the voyage.
“See him safely through the surf,” said Goring. The two men sprang in
and pushed off, pulling me in after them. With mainsail and jib we ran
out from the land and passed safely over the bar. Then my two companions
without a word of farewell sprang overboard, and I saw their heads like
black dots on the white foam as they made their way back to the shore,
while I scudded away into the blackness of the night. Looking back I
caught my last glimpse of Goring. He was standing upon the summit of a
sand-hill, and the rising moon behind him threw his gaunt angular figure
into hard relief. He was waving his arms frantically to and fro; it may
have been to encourage me on my way, but the gestures seemed to me at
the time to be threatening ones, and I have often thought that it was
more likely that his old savage instinct had returned when he realised
that I was out of his power. Be that as it may, it was the last that I
ever saw or ever shall see of Septimius Goring.
There is no need for me to dwell upon my solitary voyage. I steered as
well as I could for the Canaries, but was picked up upon the fifth day
by the British and African Steam Navigation Company’s boat Monrovia.
Let me take this opportunity of tendering my sincerest thanks to Captain
Stornoway and his officers for the great kindness which they showed me
from that time till they landed me in Liverpool, where I was enabled to
take one of the Guion boats to New York.
From the day on which I found myself once more in the bosom of my family
I have said little of what I have undergone. The subject is still an
intensely painful one to me, and the little which I have dropped
has been discredited. I now put the facts before the public as they
occurred, careless how far they may be believed, and simply writing them
down because my lung is growing weaker, and I feel the responsibility of
holding my peace longer. I make no vague statement. Turn to your map of
Africa. There above Cape Blanco, where the land trends away north and
south from the westernmost point of the continent, there it is that
Septimius Goring still reigns over his dark subjects, unless retribution
has overtaken him; and there, where the long green ridges run swiftly in
to roar and hiss upon the hot yellow sand, it is there that Harton lies
with Hyson and the other poor fellows who were done to death in the
Marie Celeste.